


A Midnight Snack

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst But They’re All Okay At The End, Animal Death, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Sam Winchester, Body Horror, Cas Has a Close Call, Cocooned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good brother Dean Winchester, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Monster Feeding, Mother Hen Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Rescues Cas, Sam’s Emotional Health Issues, Winchester First Aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 10:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sam needs to get out of his head, he needs a hunt, so Dean has Cas go with him because Cas can back Sam up and having someone else to be responsible for will keep Sam sharp while he works through things.But then Cas is snatched by the very thing they’re hunting, that likes to cocoon its victims before eating them.Time is running out for their angel, but Sam is not losing him again.





	A Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen a lot of chatter about how Sam’s emotional health issues need some addressing so I wove that into the story. Cute mooses need caring for too.
> 
> If anyone is claustrophobic, Cas gets wrapped up tight in this, and there’s some body horror so just to make you aware before you go any further.

_This_ , Sam thinks, _is all my fault_.

He keeps his gun out, the one loaded with the kill-all bullets that their angel and Rowena had enchanted the metal for, that he and Dean had then forged into rounds for all their weapons, and carefully scans the woods around the car.

Of course, there’s no sign of Cas.

The hold-all he’d sent the angel back for, that’s on the ground, open with the contents spilled out as if either Cas had wrenched it open to get something, or something had pawed curiously through it.

Sam can smell the burning acetone stink the closer he gets and, sure enough, there are smears of something that looks like yellow cotton candy across the bag and the spare ammunition, weapons and first aid kit inside.

The bag Sam forgot to bring with them when they started on the hunt for this thing, because he’s been so off his game lately even the basic shit has been let slide.

And now…

He finds a tattered trench coat in the dirt a few feet from the car.

Now, the thing they’re after has Cas.

++

The first Cas knows of being in imminent danger is when the sharp smell hits him and he feels the overwhelmingly unnerving sense of being watched.

By the time his angel blade is in his hand, it’s nearly on him; he spins, ducks (the stinger that would have impaled him scrapes along the side of the Impala instead, and he can imagine Dean’s face when he sees the damage) and lashes out with his weapon.

He scores a long deep furrow in his attacker, which sends it scrabbling out of his reach.

But it’s big, bigger than they perhaps expected, and it scuttles warily back and forth, always watching him, but never coming close enough to be within his reach.

When it rears up suddenly, and spits at him, Cas realises he’s still within _its_.

He barely avoids getting hit, and risks a quick glance to the spot where he’d been standing to see a thickening set of yellowing strands that look to be what ensnared this thing’s other victims.

If he can’t kill it, he might be joining them.

The hold-all he dropped during the first attack is a few feet away. Cas drops and rolls, coming up beside it and wrenches it open.

The weapons inside all are all loaded with the new bullets he and Rowena were finally able to make ‘universal’ as Dean had put it. 

They’ll work on this thing, and allow Cas to kill it without having to get in any closer. But rifling through the bag is a distraction, just as going for it was, and then something sharp jabs at his side and the pain is nearly as bad as any he’s ever felt.

His hands are suddenly clumsy, and the bag falls from his grip. Looking down, Cas sees a patch of red, mixed with a dirty yellow, bloom over his shirt.

The acetone smell is closer, and he looks up to find the creature standing over him, an almost smug look on its face.

Then he can’t stand, and the last thing he remembers before it wraps its webbing around him, smothering out the night, is that now Sam will be out here alone.

++

Sam knows when he’s being handled. 

It’s frustrating and not really great for his self-esteem, but he’s done it to Dean, they’ve done it to Cas, so he can’t really complain.

All the same, as he is now, he can’t help but feel a hunt is a bad idea, at least taking someone else with him.

He really doesn’t want to be responsible for any other people.

“Cas can hold his own,” Dean says, carefully checking off everything going into the hold-all. “We don’t really know what this thing is.”

“All the more reason not to take anyone else with me.”

Dean looks at him, and his questionable logic, and dismisses the latter without a word.

He adds extra bullets, and zips up the bag.

“Here’s the thing,” he says. “You need a hunt. We all know it, Sam. But by yourself, like this, bad idea. Hunting while you’re hurt is a great way to end up dead.”

The lie’s almost on his lips, about not being _hurt_ , but Dean’s different these days and the expression on his face warns Sam to not even try it.

“So Cas will back you up, and having somebody else to be responsible for out there will keep you sharp. Do not get hurt. Do no let _him_ get hurt.”

Sam nods. Dean is trusting him with three of the most important things in his life: he, Sam, himself; Cas; the Impala.

It’s Dean’s way of showing Sam he can be trusted, to deal with the hunt, to bring them all back safe, and to get through this.

Because they have all been there before and Sam knows they likely will again.

He’ll bring them back home.

++

It’s not a hard trail to follow, even in the dark. The thing seems encumbered carrying Cas, and broken branches and scuff marks in the dirt clearly show its passage.

So do the spots of blood, and strands of that gunk as if it was busy on the move, and Sam starts to feel sick.

Plus, the awful smell, though that’s too _everywhere_ , like a pervasive cloud, to be of much use as a trail marker.

He keeps the gun ready as he spots a cave up ahead. It’d make sense; this thing can’t do what it does out in the open, and the mouth of it is covered by a curtain of those horrid sticky strands that are just settling back into place as if something just passed through.

He darts forward, drops to a crouch by the mouth, and peers inside.

Moonlight reaches in so far, hopefully far enough, and Sam grabs a branch to carefully move the sticky screen aside so he can get in.

The cave is so full of that horrid stink that he has to pull his sleeve down and cover his nose, but it doesn’t seem to help.

He almost feels lightheaded, like even the air’s been driven out by it, but he pushes on.

Cas is in here, and he’s in trouble, and Sam is not losing their angel, he’s not losing another member of their family.

He can’t handle grieving Cas again.

A tiny scuttling movement from up ahead draws his focus in that area, and it’s his first look at this thing.

It’s like some kind of spindly legged spider, the body more worm like than typical arachnid, and Sam can see a weeping wound down one side.

Cas didn’t let it take him easily.

And then he sees what he figures is Cas.

It’s a humanoid shape, all wrapped up tight in the yellow cotton candy webbing this thing uses to keep its victims bound and helpless until it’s ready to feed. 

It applies another couple of layers, and then carefully nudges Cas until he’s tucked away at the side of the cave, before it turns its attention to something else.

It’s…. Sam thinks it might be a bear, maybe one that got dragged in here, maybe one that wondered in and got snagged in the webs.

But it’s trapped and still alive, snarling, struggling, and straining against the substance holding it.

It doesn’t matter, in the end.

It gets eaten anyway.

++

Once it was done with the bear (and that is something Sam will never forget, will see in his nightmares for years to come, and it is not how Cas is going to end up), the spider curls into a tight ball, legs tucked in, way back in the cave, and goes very still.

Maybe, Sam thinks, like a snake, it has to sleep off his meal.

It means he has time.

And options. One is to go over there and try to kill it, but he figures if this thing got the drop on Cas then it’s fast.

He’s in an enclosed space. In semi darkness. There’s no guarantee of a good shot; there’s every chance moving too close to the spider to make sure will wake it up. 

There’s even a small, but present, risk of ricochet.

The second option is better. Get Cas out of here, come back to finish the spider off, or even come back with help.

Killing this thing is something he has to do, but rescuing the angel comes first.

Sam creeps towards the bound figure, trying to keep one eye on the back of the cave, hoping something that big will make enough sound that he’ll hear if it starts to wake up.

But that bear was a big meal. Maybe it’ll be out for hours.

He crouches down next to what he’s sure is Cas, and rests a hand carefully on the material binding him. It doesn’t burn, like he’d feared, so he’ll be able to handle it and he knows Cas won’t be seared inside there.

But does he just drag Cas out of here, or cut him free and try to bring him round? Then carry him if he’s unable to walk?

A low groan and a twitch as Cas tries to pull away is his answer.

Sam pats him awkwardly, can’t risk speaking, hopes it’s enough.

Adds a prayer just in case, _it’s me, Cas, I’ve got you, I’ll get you out, just please stay still and keep quiet_ and then he pulls his own angel blade from his pocket.

It’s careful, delicate work, slicing through the strands. They’re thick, almost interwoven, but he doesn’t know how many layers there are, and his weapon is one that will badly hurt or kill Cas if he digs too deep.

Cas keeps still, but Sam can feel how tense and probably scared the angel is.

He finally gets down to the last layer, and from there he can just use his hands.

He uncovers Cas’s face, first, and holy shit, some of the strands are even in Cas’s mouth and nose, and Sam tugs as carefully as he dares, and Cas hacks them up.

The noise is sharp in the silence; Sam risks a glance back to the spider, but he’s sure that it’s still there; he can make out a darker patch in the shadows that moves only with each breath so they’re still okay.

Cas goes to speak, but Sam gently presses a hand to his mouth, shakes his head, nods towards the spider.

Then he carefully pulls apart the rest of the cocoon holding their angel.

A lot of the stuff is stuck to a bloody wound in Cas’s side. When he tries to pull it away, Cas contorts, and Sam is careful as he checks and sees some of the strands have stuck to the skin and even worked their way inside what looks to be a fair sized puncture wound.

Probably some kind of stinger, Sam thinks, and probably how it got the drop on Cas and all its other victims too.

He cuts around it; later, when he has Cas safe, he can treat it.

For now, getting him safe is the priority, and he’s just finished getting rid of nearly all of the webbing, leaving just the stuff around Cas’s lower legs, when the angel says, hoarsely, “Sam.”

A shadow looms over them, and the chittering noise makes him shudder.

He’d put the gun down, kept it near though, and he scoops it up in one smooth move, turns, and fires.

++

They don’t typically stay in the area after a hunt, but Cas has an open wound and Sam knows until he cleans the last of the spider’s strands out of it, that it won’t be able to close and heal properly, so he starts back to the motel.

Cas stops him. “We’re not leaving?”

Sam glances at him, curled in on himself, one hand holding an emergency dressing to his side, but the yellowish stain showing he’s still leaking the last of the spider’s venom, probaby’s his Grace trying to push all trace of foreign material out of his body.

“Cas,” he says, but the angel cuts him off.

“I can make it home.”

Sam has to hold off for a moment; he isn’t sure he can speak, keeping the utter swell of joy he feels at hearing that. It took he and Dean a while to realise they’d never really made Cas welcome in the bunker, not as they should have done, and by the time they had realised it felt like the opportunity had gone.

And then they had given him a room, only to ask him to surrender it because a person who needed sleep and a bed required it instead.

But that room is his again, now, and that starts up something else in Sam, and he can’t afford to lose himself to it now.

He has a hurt angel, a hurt member of his family, to take care of.

“Compromise,” he manages, finally. “We’ll pull in somewhere, and take care of that.”

So he finds a quiet road, pulls off far enough that nobody will notice the sleek black car with her headlights off, and tends to Cas in the back seat.

And it’s sloppy and messy, and the back seat is too small for it, but Sam cleans the last of the venom out, and carefully pulls out the strands, and then dresses the wound properly until Cas’s Grace can seal it up.

He leaves Cas resting in the back seat, and gets back behind the wheel, aware the angel deserved better than some roadside first aid, but then he’s fixed Dean up in just the same way, a hundred times or more.

Dean’s done the same thing.

It’s the Winchester way, and Cas is a Winchester, and besides…

Cas said he could make it home, and for Winchesters, which includes that angel, Baby _is_ a home.

And Cas will be okay.

++

It doesn’t stop Dean mother henning the shit out of them when they make it back, but the look he gives Sam is one that tells him while he, Sam, might have lost faith in himself…

Dean never did.

++

He still sulks for a day when he sees what the spider did to their car, though.


End file.
